


Words

by elumish



Series: Werewolves 101 [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Panic Attacks, Professor Stiles Stilinski, Writer Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 21:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5106173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elumish/pseuds/elumish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We need to talk.”</p>
<p>Stiles puts his coffee cup down with what might be a little too much force. “Only bad conversations can start with the words ‘we need to talk.’”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Words

**Author's Note:**

> This is set the day after Hands.

“We need to talk.”

Stiles puts his coffee cup down with what might be a little too much force. “Only bad conversations can start with the words ‘we need to talk.’”

Derek walks over to the table and peers at him. “Have you actually had a bad conversation that started with that?”

“‘Hey, son, your mother is going to lose all of her memories and then die.’ ‘Hey, Scott, you’re a werewolf.’ Yeah, I’ve had bad conversations that started with that.” He scrubs his hand across his face. This was a great morning, or had been, but having whatever conversation this is is not going to make it any better. “So lay it on me.”

Derek slides into the chair across from Stiles. “Nothing like that. It’s a ‘we need to talk’ thing more than an ‘I need to talk to you’ thing, and it’s not bad. It’s, uh—so what we did last night.” This is going to be one of those it was nice but let’s not do it again things. Which sucks, because Stiles really enjoyed it. “Whatever you’re thinking is probably wrong. We just need to have a conversation about how we’re actually going to do this moving forward. Because it’s not the type of thing you should do without talking about, and the fact that we did it once like that was okay but we shouldn’t keep doing it without a talk.”

That’s…not terrible, actually. Though he is kind of babbling, which is unusual. “Yeah, okay.”

“So how do you want to do this? We can print something from the internet, or—”

“No.” Stiles pushes the cup forward an inch with his finger. “I’m a teacher, and I know it’s different being a college professor, and I have no problem with the whole world knowing I’m gay, but this is something a little different, and I don’t want anything down on paper for it. Not—not because I’m ashamed, but because I don’t have tenure and I would like to keep my job.”

Derek nods. “That’s okay. We can just talk through it. Hard limits, soft limits, things we want to do. And I’m—if there’s something you don’t want me to do, I need you to tell me. I’m serious.”

“I will.” This might not be the most politic question to ask, but, “Why are you so into this? I mean I’m into consent. Like, obviously, consent is a good thing. But you’re…really…I’m going to stop talking now.”

“It’s, uh, I was in a relationship, on the other side of a relationship, and I ended up in a situation where I didn’t particularly have a choice, and I’m trying to make sure that doesn’t happen here. First things first, do you want to stick with the colors you used last night or do you want a new safe word?”

“Colors. And you?”

Derek blinks at him. “Me?”

“You need a safe word, too.”

He stares down at Stiles’s coffee cup for a second, then says, “Silver.”

Silver being…Argent. Ah. Yeah, that would do it. “Okay. Right. Now for the fun stuff. I like you ordering me around and holding me down and would probably like you typing me up because I like…ropes. Well, less up and more down. I’m not big on suspensions, and also I can’t really have rope marks on my arms during the summer or spring or really fall because I have to teach classes and that could be really awkward. And you can do wrist stuff without leaving marks, but it’s a lot harder to do suspensions that way. Also suspensions just don’t do much for me.”

“When you’re held down or tied down, do you want me to be in charge?”

“Yeah. But only in bed. I don’t—that’s not something I want in daily life.”

Derek’s nostrils flare. “That’s a lie.”

Stiles presses his lips together to keep from saying something stupid. “Let’s put it this way—it’s something we’re not doing in daily life. You can still be possessive and whatever—to a degree—but I’m not taking orders or being told how to live my life by anyone. That’s not anything about you, it’s just the way it’s going to work.”

“Okay. What else are you looking for?”

“I’m cool with pain—not a lot of it, I don’t want you whipping me or whatever, but—” Derek flinches so hard the chair actually rocks back for a second, then starts shaking, and whoa. “Are you okay?”

“I’m not hurting you.”

“I mean, it’s not really—”

Nails lengthening, Derek jerks his head down so he’s facing away, eyes squeezed shut. “No,” he grits out finally, and he’s lisping a little around fully grown fangs. Which, wow, that was a way bigger reaction than Stiles was expecting. “No, I’m not hurting you. I’m not hurting you. I don’t care if you beg me, I’m not hurting you.”

Stiles can’t stand to watch this anymore, so he gets to his feet and walks over, crouching down next to Derek in the direction that he’s facing. “Can I touch you?”

“I’m not hurting you.” He’s shaking harder now, his breathing coming so fast Stiles is worried he might hyperventilate. “I’m not hurting you.” And then Stiles reaches out and touches a hand to his knee, and Derek lunges off of the chair, knocking Stiles to the ground and blanketing him with his body.

“Hey,” Stiles whispers, pulling an arm out from under him to wrap it around Derek as best as he can. “Hey, it’s all good. It’s all fine. You don’t need to hurt me. You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Derek’s shaking slows, then stops, and he buries his face in the juncture where Stiles’s neck meets his shoulder. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“All good.” Stiles keeps up running his hand up and down Derek’s back. “It’s okay. It’s all good.”

Derek stays where he is for a second, then rolls off of him to flop on his back on the floor; now that the adrenaline is fading, the fact that Stiles just crashed flat on his back is starting to make itself known, and ow, that hurts. But he’s not going to say anything, because that’s not going to make anything better, so he just lays there, breathing.

“I’m sorry,” Derek say again, levering himself up to sit with his knees bent loosely in front of him. “That’s kind of a thing for me.”

“I noticed.” Stiles sits up too, but that’s really uncomfortable, so he turns and props himself up against Derek’s side. Because what’s the point in having a buff macho boyfriend if you can’t use him as a wall to lean against. “So, let’s keep going.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.” Stiles leans his head against Derek’s shoulder, and Derek puts his arm around Stiles’s shoulders. “Yeah, let’s go. Pain is not going to happen. I mean, you do like bite-y things, which is cool, but…I’m going to stop talking about this. Other things that aren’t happening. Things with other bodily fluids. Like blood and…other stuff that isn’t saliva and semen, because those are awesome. But other stuff.”

“Yeah.”

“Unless you want to mark your territory or something.”

Derek’s hand contracts on his shoulder. “I’m sure I can find better ways to do that.”

“Right. So what’s another hard limit for you?”

“I won’t do anything humiliation-related. I won’t humiliate you. It’s not—”

“That’s fine, because I’m not into that. No calling me a slut or a bitch or whatever.”

Derek grins next to him. “Kitten?”

An involuntary shudder goes through Stiles’s entire body. “Oh, that just sounds weird. Also, really, a werewolf calling me kitten? Kind of weird.”

“So no humiliation and no pet names.”

Stiles nods. “Obviously, I’m good with hugging and touching and kissing and blow jobs—giving and getting—and you fucking me.”

The hand clenches on his shoulder. “Yeah, I don’t think I can…do that.”

“What do you mean?”

Derek sighs. “I’m sorry about this, but I don’t think I can have sex with you. With the…with the me being inside you thing, and I know that’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re the Dom, or whatever you want to call it, but it’s…I can’t do it.”

“That’s fine.” It didn’t totally match things he had said before, but it might be like the thing with Stiles and the not wanting the Dom stuff outside of sex, and he’s not going to question it. “If you want, and this isn’t something you have to say yes to, but if you want, you can be on top, but I can be the…tab to your slot. Like, I don’t want to be on top doing that, but it’s possible to do it without being on top, and I’m not going to keep talking, because I think you got my point.”

“I’ll…see.” He sighs again, then jerks Stiles up and on top of him so Stiles is straddling his legs. “Are we done yet?”

Stiles nods, then slides his hands up his shirt and starts sucking on his throat. Because he can’t resist. “We’re done. Well, probably not, but I can’t think of anything else, so—fuck.” Derek pushes him over to the side, flat on his back on the floor, and shoves his hands up over his head with one large palm. “Okay, we can do this. We should do this.”

“Shut up.”

Stiles bats his eyes up at Derek where he’s holding himself up over him with the hottest fucking look Stiles has ever seen on his face. Other than last night. “You don’t want me to—”

The hand on his wrists tightens, almost to the point of pain. “I’m in charge, remember.”

“Yep. Yep, I remember.”

“So shut up.”

“Right. Right. Yes. Shutting up now.” And then his mouth is too busy to do anything else, anyway.

When they’re all done and lying on the floor with sweat and other things cooling against their skin, with Derek’s entire body curled around Stiles’s like he’s a teddy bear or a little kid’s blanket, he says, “It feels too much like it did with her.”

And Stiles regrets that he doesn’t need to ask.


End file.
